The night deepened further across the southern wilderness.
Cold wind drifted through the towering ancient trees surrounding the expedition camp while fading embers crackled softly beneath darkening campfires. The moon had partially disappeared behind drifting clouds now, leaving the forest wrapped beneath layers of silver mist and moving shadows.
Most of the expedition had already settled into quieter routines.
Some slept.
Some maintained watch.
Others organized supplies beneath lanternlight before dawn arrived.
Yet despite the exhaustion weighing upon everyone—
Conversations still lingered throughout the camp.
Because tonight—
Something had changed.
Not because of the ruined temple.
Not because of treasure.
But because of words.
Teren quietly walked through the camp carrying a wooden cup of reheated tea while his thoughts remained tangled from the conversation earlier.
The cold wilderness air brushed against his face softly while distant flames illuminated the camp in scattered patches of orange light.
His brother's face kept resurfacing inside his mind.
Not the image created by nobles.
Not the whispers of cowardice.
But the possibility that perhaps—
His brother simply wanted to survive.
The thought alone felt strange.
Painful.
Comforting.
Teren softly exhaled while stopping near one of the smaller campfires where several scholars and mages remained awake organizing copied records from the Vaelari ruins.
Stacks of sealed scrolls rested beside them alongside journals filled with hurried notes and translation fragments.
The scholars looked exhausted.
Yet excited.
One older mage adjusted his glasses while carefully wrapping crystal tablets inside protective cloth.
Another scholar quietly argued about anatomical terminology from ancient medicinal diagrams.
"…The mana vascular theory changes modern healing entirely—"
"No, the dimensional contamination sections are far more important—"
"You both missed the regeneration studies—"
The discussion paused briefly when Teren approached.
Several glanced toward him curiously.
The young explorer hesitated slightly.
Then quietly sat beside the fire.
No one spoke immediately afterward.
Only the crackling flames filled the silence between them.
Then finally—
Teren quietly asked—
"Can I ask something?"
The older scholar looked up.
"Depends."
A faint tired smile appeared.
"If it's about translating ancient medical scripture, ask tomorrow."
Several nearby scholars softly laughed.
The atmosphere felt lighter than before.
Teren slowly shook his head.
"No…"
A faint pause followed.
"…it's about the expedition."
The laughter faded afterward.
Several people exchanged glances quietly.
The young explorer stared into the flames before speaking again.
"…How many of you actually want to continue deeper into the wilderness?"
Silence settled briefly.
One younger mage softly snorted.
"That's a dangerous question."
Another scholar sighed while rubbing tired eyes.
"Honestly?"
He quietly leaned back against a supply crate.
"…I don't know anymore."
The fire crackled softly.
"We already gained more knowledge than most expeditions discover in decades."
Several nearby people silently agreed.
The Vaelari ruins alone had changed everything.
Teren quietly listened.
Then slowly asked—
"So why not leave with the first batch?"
This time—
The silence lasted longer.
Several scholars avoided eye contact immediately.
One mage tightened her grip around a cup slightly.
Another quietly stared toward the darkness beyond the camp.
And suddenly—
Teren understood.
Hesitation.
Not everyone stayed because they wanted to.
Some simply couldn't step forward.
Because stepping forward meant admitting fear openly.
The realization struck him strangely hard.
"…So it's the same for you too."
The scholars looked toward him again.
Teren quietly lowered his gaze toward the flames.
"I wanted to leave earlier."
A faint breath escaped him.
"But I couldn't."
No one mocked him.
Because now—
Many understood exactly what he meant.
One younger scholar softly laughed bitterly.
"I nearly stepped forward three times."
Another mage quietly nodded.
"Same."
The older scholar beside the fire slowly closed the book in his hands.
"The problem isn't fear."
The campfire illuminated the deep wrinkles beneath his tired eyes.
"It's pride."
Silence followed.
Because everyone there understood it immediately.
Pride.
Expectation.
Image.
Explorers feared being remembered as weak more than being injured.
Scholars feared appearing fragile beside mercenaries.
Mages feared looking unreliable.
And because of that—
People kept walking deeper into danger even after their instincts told them to stop.
Teren quietly remembered Kel's words again.
An intelligent person survives longer than a foolish soldier.
The young explorer slowly lifted his head afterward.
Then calmly spoke.
"Then decide now."
Several scholars blinked slightly.
Teren's expression remained uneasy.
Yet more stable than before.
"Decide beforehand who leaves with the second batch."
The campfire crackled softly between them.
"If you wait until the moment comes…"
His fingers tightened around the warm tea cup.
"…hesitation will stop you again."
The surrounding scholars slowly fell silent.
Because the logic made sense.
Fear became harder to admit publicly in sudden moments.
But deciding calmly beforehand?
That was different.
One younger mage quietly frowned.
"…You think Heral planned it this way intentionally?"
Teren remained silent briefly.
Then softly laughed once.
"…I think he understands people too well."
Several nearby scholars quietly nodded afterward.
Because everyone noticed it already.
Heral never pressured people directly.
Yet somehow—
He guided them toward confronting truths themselves.
The older scholar slowly leaned forward toward the fire.
"Then perhaps…"
A faint pause followed.
"…we should decide now."
The atmosphere around the smaller campfire shifted subtly afterward.
More serious.
More honest.
One by one—
People began speaking openly.
A young healer admitted her mana reserves were becoming unstable after continuous wilderness exposure.
Another scholar confessed he physically could not endure another major ruin collapse.
One mage quietly explained that although she wished to continue researching…
She feared becoming a burden during combat situations.
And for the first time—
Nobody treated those confessions as weakness.
Because tonight—
The atmosphere of the expedition had changed fundamentally.
Survival was no longer shameful.
The older scholar eventually took out a small journal and calmly spoke.
"Then let's decide properly."
The lanternlight reflected softly across ink-stained fingers while he opened the journal.
"Who plans to return with the second batch?"
Several hesitant hands slowly rose.
Not proudly.
Not shamefully.
Honestly.
Teren quietly watched the scene beside the fire.
And strangely—
The crushing pressure inside his chest felt lighter now.
Because perhaps—
Courage was not blindly walking toward death.
Perhaps courage also meant admitting when you wanted to live.
Far away across the camp—
Kel quietly observed the smaller fire from beneath the shadows of a massive tree.
The black-haired man remained partially hidden by darkness while cold wind moved softly through the wilderness around him.
Sairen softly laughed through the soul-link.
"…You started a philosophical movement inside the expedition."
Kel calmly watched the scholars discussing future batch rotations openly beside the fire.
Then quietly answered—
"No."
A faint pause followed.
"They simply stopped lying to themselves."